


I Found the Cure to Growing Older

by breakfastatmilliways



Category: In the Flesh (TV), Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Dan is one of them if that isn't obvious, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Temporary Character Death, Zombies, definitely angst though, less zombies and more walking corpses with feels and emotions ya'll
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-09-25 02:32:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9798593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakfastatmilliways/pseuds/breakfastatmilliways
Summary: Dan died. Phil thought that might perhaps be the worst of his problems - after all, what could be worse than losing your best friend?Turns out, it was the zombie apocalypse.When that’s all said and done, as much as an APOCALYPSE can be said and done, he gets a phone call.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because I really needed a second multi-chapter fic going while I’m already writing one, eh?
> 
> This one is an AU based on the fantastically awesome television show “In the Flesh”. If you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend it. Adorable cured zombies (A.K.A. Partially Deceased Syndrome Sufferers), serious feels, and well rounded LGBT characters? Yas. IT HAS IT ALL. Like seriously, if you have not seen this show, go watch the https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=53I2_DbVUqU trailer and immediately become convinced to watch both seasons. I will wait here.
> 
> ...Did you watch it? Okay, good. Anyhoo, if you have seen it and are familiar with the canon, you’ll obviously notice that I’m making some changes, mainly in the timeline. The bulk of it will be taking place in 2021, with the backstory taking place around current day. I do otherwise intend to try to keep this shit accurate to the universe, though. 
> 
> So yeah, prepare your butts for a good old fashioned zambie angst and fluff pie. 
> 
> Oh, and credit to my good buddy Snuff for reading it over and providing a fabulous place to bounce ideas around. And comments/kudos are love! GIVE ME YOUR OPINIONS.

_ 28 January, 2021 _

“Hi guys! Can you see me?” Phil asked the old webcam on his laptop, giving a little wave at it as he did so. He couldn’t help feeling a little bit nervous- this would be his first live show in nearly four years. It occurred to him that it was a bit silly to be anxious about something as innocuous as talking to some fans on webcam, when he’d literally had to bash a rabid zombie’s head in with a bit of piping to save his own skin in the not too distant past. Then again, his mental processes had always been a little bit out of the norm. 

The messages started coming in after a few seconds, and his face split into a grin at the general excitement he was seeing. The chat moved a lot slower than it would have once, but that was to be expected. Plenty of people out there didn’t even have an internet connection back yet, and he was sure that quite a few of his old fans had forgotten him. Something about living through the apocalypse tended to shift a person’s priorities, and his fans were no exception.

“Great! Looks like we’re live then. How are you guys? It’s been ages!” He scanned the chat as he spoke, and laughed slightly. “Katie123 says ‘I’ve missed you Phil!’, that’s so sweet! I’ve missed all of you too. It feels great to be back. I’ve spent almost the whole of the last year out of London, staying with the family. They got hit a lot harder up there than we were here, it’s taken a lot of work to rebuild. I’ve missed the flat though, it’s really great to be home.” 

A glance at the chat showed that a lot of people were clamoring for a look around, and he obliged, picking up his laptop and doing a quick 180 of the sitting room to show it off before setting it back down in front of him. “Looks the same as ever, doesn’t it? You’d almost think the world  _ didn’t _ nearly end.” 

A few people in the chat were having a small freak out, apparently having missed the sight of the sofa crease, and Phil couldn’t help a small pang at the phrase. It was a fairly unwanted reminder that said sofa crease was empty. He pushed the thought aside, because now wasn’t the time to get down in the dumps, and settled on another question that managed to make him laugh. 

“‘Did any of your houseplants survive?’, bad-twin wants to know. Well, have I got a surprise for you, bad-twin.” He hopped up from his spot to cross the room, coming back with a pot in his hands which contained a rather unhealthy looking, but surprisingly living, cactus. “Susan 7 here managed to survive the water shortages, via her cactus-y resilience. She’s looking a little worse for wear now, but I’ll have her fixed up soon enough.”

“Have I seen anyone from the old days recently? ‘Kringlemanger24’ is asking.” He paused, quirking a brow. “What’s a kringlemanger? Do I want to know?” When the chat erupted into a series of caps lock ‘NO!’s, he decided that he would take that advice. “Okay, just going to forget about that entirely then. As for the question, yeah, I have. I saw PJ the other day after I got back to London, and I’ve got plans for Louise to come for a short stay with Darcy in a few weeks. I heard now that the borders are open again, Tyler’s going to try to get across the pond for a while, so we’ll probably have a little meet up of everyone who’s still around. We might even be able to get a few collabs in.”

“MyRotterRomanceattheDisco wants to know how I feel about the reintegration initiative. I think it’s great, really. I understand why some people are against it, the PDS sufferers didn’t exactly make life easy for any of us, but then you’ve got to think, they’re still people. They were our friends and neighbours once, and they didn’t know what they were doing. Some kids are going to have their dads back. You might get a sibling or a mum back. It’s… I mean, it’s a much more positive ending to the war than you’d expect, don’t you think?” The chat seemed to be mostly in agreement with his opinion, despite a few voices of dissent, and he smiled.

That initial feeling of anxiety had swiftly been replaced by warm fuzzy feelings. Phil hadn’t realized quite how much he had missed his fans. They were a mad bunch, but they were a good bunch. Well, most of them. As the live show continued, the occasional troll did show up. The worst of them were the ones that popped in just to comment things like ‘Where’s Dan?! LOL’, and while it stung a little, it was heartening to see the way the rest of the chat banded against the trolls in his defense. 

Things were still going well enough, when Phil’s phone went off. He’d been in the midst of answering  CuteRandomLlamasxo’s question about his birthday plans when it vibrated on the sofa next to him, and he paused in explaining that Martyn would be coming to visit him in order to pick it up and take a look. “Hang on a second guys, I need to see who-” 

He faltered, and immediately went quiet. The chat was filled with expressions of concern, and a few people making jokes about how they hadn’t thought it was possible for him to go  _ paler _ , but he didn’t even notice. It was as if everything in the room had blurred around him, except for the screen on the phone in front of him. Not even bothering to excuse himself, he simply shut the laptop, ending the stream instantly, and with shaking hands, accepted the call. 

“...Mrs. Howell?” Phil’s voice came out as an undignified croak, and he cleared his throat before trying again. “Er… Hello?”

For a long moment, he thought that maybe she had just dialed his number by mistake. He couldn’t hear anything on the other end of the line, and he was just about to end the call when she finally spoke up. “Phil! Hello, dear. How have you been?” Dan’s mother sounded extremely awkward, and Phil couldn’t blame her for that. They hadn’t spoken since the funeral, and he wasn’t doing much better in terms of awkwardness. 

“As well as can be, these days. How- how are you? How’s the family?” 

Another silence stretched out, and Phil reached up to scratch at the back of his head. This was beyond uncomfortable, and he rather hoped that she would get to the point soon, because he really wanted to hang up. 

“Good, good. Well, you see that’s… actually why I’ve called. I have, well, news.” 

“Is everything alright? No one’s been hurt, or anything?” Phil’s concern was genuine, even if he still wanted to be doing just about anything other than having this conversation. Regardless of how long it had been since they had spoken, Dan’s family would never really leave his heart, and he certainly cared for their well being. 

“Everyone’s just fine, no, no one’s hurt. It’s the opposite, actually.” For the first time since the call had started, Phil noticed that she was audibly crying, and suddenly his stomach began to twist with anticipation about what she was about to say. “It’s Dan. He’s come home.” 

***

_ 9 February, 2017 _

“Phil, it’s been over a week. The birthday milking has to stop.” Dan was saying from his place on the sofa, settled comfortably in his crease. His laptop was balanced on his knees, and he was pointedly ignoring the puppy dog eyes that Phil was sending his way. 

“What do you expect us to have for breakfast tomorrow, Dan? Do you expect me to go hungry? So soon after my birthday? We don’t even have cereal.” Phil was expecting the pillow that Dan threw at his head in response, but he still failed to react quickly enough to prevent it smashing straight into his face. “Ow.” 

“We don’t have cereal because  _ you _ ate yours  _ and _ mine. You get off your ass and go to Tesco’s. I’m the one who’s wounded.” 

“You fell down a week ago. You’re  _ fine _ . You’re at least fine enough to go to buy cereal and pancake mix.” 

“This madness needs to end. You can’t try to negotiate birthday favors for the rest of the year. A week is where I draw the line, Philly. If you’re so worried about our cupboards, you can restock them.” 

Phil simply stared at him, a pout on his face that he knew probably looked utterly ridiculous, but it seemed to do the trick. When Dan finally glanced up from his laptop screen, he cracked up, shaking his head. 

“Okay, no. You’re not going to win me over just by making yourself look like a complete idiot.  _ But _ , I’m willing to Rock Paper Scissors you for it.” 

It was a bit silly that two grown men settled almost every dispute that life handed to them with a children’s game, but it had worked for them all these years, so Phil was more than willing to agree to those terms. Besides, he had rather good luck when it came to predicting Dan’s moves.

Five minutes later, he watched with smug satisfaction as his friend grumbled to himself whilst puttering around the flat, collecting the necessities for a trip into the horrid, cold wilderness that made up the journey to Tesco’s. Dan jammed a hat onto his head, then turned to stare at Phil with a look of pure loathing. Phil just grinned up at him, tongue poking out between his teeth. 

“I hate you.” Dan commented, although the words lacked any real venom. “This is literally the last time I’m ever letting you pull the ‘All or Nothing’ card.”

“I hate you too.” Phil replied affectionately, before settling back against the sofa to carry on with his perusal of twitter. “Don’t forget the Crunchy Nut.” 

Dan rolled his eyes and headed on his way, calling back at Phil as he headed to the stairs. 

“Yeah, I’ll remember it, and I’ll remember to hide it when I get back so I’ll actually have a bowl of it for once, you  _ living hoover _ .” He punctuated this statement by slamming the door behind him. 

This would prove to be the last time Phil saw Dan alive. 

***

_ 28 January, 2021 _

Phil was glad that he had already been sitting down when he’d answered the phone, because he was pretty sure his legs wouldn’t have held him up for long after that particular bombshell. 

It wasn’t as though it was impossible. Everyone that rose from the dead in November of 2017 had died during that year, although Phil had mostly heard of it happening to those that died nearer to the Rising. Dan had died right at the beginning of the year, so technically he made the cut. It wasn’t a possibility that had ever crossed Phil’s mind, though.

He’d said his goodbyes years ago. He’d mourned. He’d even started learning to be happy again when the Rising had come along and turned the entire world upside down. Suddenly, his own grief hadn’t seemed so important anymore. It was still there, and it still hurt, but helping to rebuild an entire society after a horrible event nearly tore it apart really put things in perspective. 

He didn’t even know how to cope with this. 

“...Phil, are you alright?” Dan’s mum’s voice finally managed to through to his consciousness, and he snapped to attention. He must have been silent for several minutes. 

“Yeah, thanks, I just… That’s a lot to take in.” He excused lamely, pushing his glasses up to rub at his eyes and taking a deep breath. His hand was wet when he pulled it away again. He was crying, apparently. That was interesting. “How, erm… what’s he like?” 

“He’s Dan.” She replied, and judging from her voice, she was probably still crying too. “Sarcastic as ever. He keeps making jokes about being dead inside at uncomfortable moments.” She was quiet, yet another length of silence stretched out, before she spoke again, in a quiet voice. “He misses you. He won’t say it, but… this isn’t his home anymore. I know it’s a lot to ask, and I know you have a whole life you must be trying to get back to, but-”

“I’ll make sure his room’s set up.” Phil found himself responding before he even consciously made the decision. “I never packed anything away, really, but I’m sure most of his things have gathered a lot of dust, and I don’t know what state the sheets are in, so I might have to pop round to the shop and see if I can find some replacements.”

“Thank you.” The relief was palpable in her voice, and she even gave a shaky laugh. “He would have been so miserable, staying here. You have no idea how pleased he’ll be when I’ve told him.” 

Phil didn’t say as much, but he rather thought that he knew exactly how pleased Dan would be, if the enormous grin that had somehow crossed his own face was any indication. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plenty of angst, fluff, and exposition to be had with this chapter guys! Well, mostly the angst (like, actual character death flashback angst) and exposition, but there's a good big hunk o' fluff as well. 
> 
> This one ended up being pretty darn long compared to the first, as there was a lot of stuff that I needed to get through, but the ball is finally rolling now!
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are absolutely wonderful! Especially comments, I love nothing more than getting comments!

_9 February, 2017_

It might have taken a few months for the rest of the universe to catch up, but Phil’s personal world had come crashing down around him on what should have been an entirely uneventful Monday evening.

Looking back on it later, he should have realized that something had gone wrong well before he got what would be the worst phone call in his life. Unfortunately, he’d gone from aimlessly browsing twitter to falling into a cat video hole, and there were few better ways to lose track of the time. It was only when his phone went off to a call from an unknown number that he noticed the late hour, and it occurred to him that four hours was a bit long for a simple Tesco’s run.

He had a sudden feeling, deep in his gut, that he really didn’t want to answer his phone. He did it anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hello. Is this a Mr… Phillip Lester?” The woman on the other end of the line didn’t sound unkind, really, but there was a tired sort of professionalism to her voice that immediately had Phil on edge.

“Yeah. That’s me.” He replied, a bit hoarse, because any hint of moisture had seen fit to vanish from his mouth.  That pit of dread that was forming in his stomach only seemed to grow as the woman explained that she was from their local A&E, and that he was listed as emergency contact in a Mr. Daniel Howell’s medical records.

“What happened? Is he alright? I’ll be there as soon as possible, just let me-” Phil didn’t get to finish this sudden bit of blabbering, as the woman, who had introduced herself as Doreen, hushed him gently.

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Lester, but we can’t seem to find any records of what exactly your relationship is to Mr. Howell. Are you family?” She asked, some of that professionalism fading in favour of genuine caring. Phil would probably have admired her ability to adjust for a client’s needs if he wasn’t too busy trying not to have a panic attack. He got to his feet and started pacing, pushing his hair up into a quiff and tangling his fingers into it, almost painfully. The light stinging was helping to keep him somewhat grounded.

“No. I’m just… a friend.” He said, sounding a bit like a little boy to his own ears.

“Do you have a contact number for next of kin? Parents? Siblings?” Doreen sounded sympathetic, but it really wasn’t making Phil feel any better.

“Yeah, I um, I’ve got his mum’s mobile.” He pulled the phone away from his ear momentarily to look through his contacts for the right number, although it took him a while, because he was more than a bit shaky. His pacing had eventually brought him to the kitchen, and he leaned against the counter to steady himself as he read off the number for Doreen. As soon as he’d finished, he took a deep breath before speaking again. “Please, just… what happened? Is he okay?”

It took Doreen several seconds to answer, and when she did, she at least had the decency to sound genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lester. We can’t reveal that information to anyone who isn’t immediate family. I appreciate your help, and I’ll be certain to let Mr. Howell’s mum know that you’re waiting for an update once I speak to her.”

Phil must have said something in response to this before hanging up, but he couldn’t remember what it was. He just stood there, half of his weight rested against the kitchen counter, and stared at the wall as he tried to process what this meant. He knew, at least, that it was serious. The staff would surely have been able to tell him what was wrong if Dan had been in any condition to give his permission.

He wasn’t sure how long he simply stood there, staring blankly, before his phone went off again, and he looked down to recognize that it was Dan’s mother on the line. As if on autopilot, he answered it and lifted it to his ear, murmuring a greeting.

The only thing Phil got in response was hysterical sobs, and he didn’t need any more explanation than that to get the gist of what had happened. His legs decided that they didn’t really want to support his weight anymore, and he slid down the front of the counter to sit on the ground. He figured then and there that he wasn’t particularly ready for the details.

He at least managed to hang up the phone before being sick on the floor.

***

_30 January, 2021_

Phil couldn’t quite decide if this was the best or worst birthday he’d had in recent memory. On one hand, the prospect of literally having his best friend back from the grave was without a doubt the greatest gift anyone could ever have. On the other, beyond riding the bus to the train station in Manchester twelve years before, he couldn’t remember a time in his life that he had been quite this nervous.

He had readily agreed to having Dan move back into the flat, but he hadn’t quite expected for it to happen so quickly. The Howells had gotten straight to planning the moment he had given his okay, though, and so he found himself sitting at the bottom of the stairs with his phone in hand, not wanting to wait outside, but too nervous to just wait up in the flat proper.

He didn’t know what to expect. He’d heard stories, and he had even met a few PDS sufferers in his time at his parents’ home. The neighbor, an elderly man, had brought his wife home from one of the treatment centers, and Phil’s parents, being the warm people that they were, had invited both of them over as a show of good faith.

She had seemed pleasant enough to him, but it wasn’t as though he had known her in life, beyond occasionally getting a glimpse of her gardening during his relatively infrequent visits to the family home. He couldn’t compare her now to the way she had been when she had been alive, not really.

Phil had yet to meet someone he had actually _known_ , and this was the one person he had probably known better than he knew himself. Of course he was nervous.

He was pulled out of his reverie by his phone going off, and he jumped to his feet as soon as he glanced at it before heading outside to the street corner. The sight of a large van awaited him, and he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans to prevent himself from awkwardly wringing his fingers together.

A stranger emerged from the front passenger's seat, heading around the front of the van toward Phil and forcing him to take one of his hands out of his pockets in order to shake the man’s hand when it was offered.

“Phil, I presume? Name’s John. I’m here to give you a few pointers and walk you through the administration of neurotryptilin.” John’s handshake was a bit too firm, and he seemed a little bit _too_ cheery, but Phil didn’t complain. He was busy looking over John’s shoulder at the back door of the van, which had just opened up.

Dan’s face was mostly hidden by the fact that he had a hood up and pulled down low over his forehead, but Phil would have recognized the tall figure that emerged from the back seat anywhere. He had to actually remind himself to start breathing again, as his body seemed to decide that breathing of its own accord was old news.

John, at least, was apparently more observant than Phil might have given him credit for from his first impression. He seemed to recognize the look on his face immediately, and his gaze flicked back and forth between Phil and the shadowy Dan several times before he spoke up. “Well, lads, it might be best to have the rest of this conversation inside, don’t you think?”

It took Phil a few seconds to realize he was being addressed, but he finally managed to tear his gaze away from Dan in order to nod in response to John. “Right, come on in.” He chanced one more look at Dan, but his face was dark enough that he couldn’t really make out any kind of expression, so he just sucked in a breath through his teeth and turned to lead the way inside.

It was only once they were safely up in the sitting room that Dan finally took off the hood, and Phil was able to get a decent look at his face. He seemed remarkably like the same old Dan, albeit a fair bit tanner than he had been in recent years, presumably as a result of the government issued cover up mousse. He had an ugly series of stitches over his left temple, but his complexion was not at all unlike it had been when the two of them had first met, and Phil found himself letting out an extremely inopportune laugh at that realisation. For the first time since his arrival, Dan met his eyes, a small smile starting to form on his own face as well. Before long, they were just grinning at one another like idiots, and John was forced to clear his throat loudly in order to get their attention.

“I’m glad to see you seem to be getting along but Clarence is waiting outside, and I have a few other households to get to before my shift is over, so if we could get to business?” He asked, sounding a bit apologetic. Phil tore his gaze away from Dan’s again to nod at the employee, who promptly unzipped the bag he was carrying in order to remove a rather ugly looking mechanical device. It almost looked like a gun, but with a canister of some sort of fluid rather than bullets. The neurotryptilin, Phil assumed. “If you’ll just sit down, Dan? I can’t even begin to reach if you’re standing up, you’re so bloody tall.”

From the way he talked to him, Phil could only assume that John and Dan knew one another, probably from the treatment center that Dan would have spent the last few months at. Dan did as he was told and moved to sit cross legged on the sofa, with his back against the arm rather than the backrest, allowing John to step up behind him. John motioned Phil over as he did so, and Phil crossed the room to stand behind Dan as well, watching as John showed him how the administration machine worked.

“You see here-” John murmured, pushing down the collar of Dan’s coat in order to reveal a small dark hole in the skin right over his spine between the tops of his shoulderblades. “That’s where you’ve got to stick the nozzle. You just shove it in there and pull the trigger.” He did as he was describing, shoving the small opening of the device into the hole and then pressing down on the trigger. It took only a moment before Dan let out a gasp, curling forward into fetal position and breathing hard.

Phil instinctively wanted to comfort him, and he reached out to take hold of his shoulder, only for John to grasp his wrist and pull his hand back. He glanced at the man in confusion, and John gave him an understanding smile. “Just let him ride through it. A dose of neurotryptilin tends to bring on a little wave of flashbacks. He’ll be alright in a moment.”

Phil wanted to argue, but just as John had said, Dan seemed to calm down after a few seconds, and he looked up at Phil with a weak smile.

There were so many things that Phil wanted to say to him, but he didn’t feel particularly comfortable saying any of them in front of John, so he simply smiled back, and turned his attention back to the rehab worker. “Right, I think I can manage that. It’s once a day? What happens if we miss a dose?” His tone was joking, but the look that crossed John’s face was anything but amused.

“Don’t miss a dose. Believe me, missing a dose is a hell of a lot more trouble than it’s worth.” He said seriously, before turning his attention to Dan. “Best of luck, mate. I hope I never have to see you again, but if you have any trouble, feel free to call. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a word with your flatmate here before I go.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Dan replied, speaking for the first time since he got out of the van, and reaching up to rub at the spot at the back of his neck. Phil just stared at him for a few seconds, drinking in the fact that he’d just heard the voice he was so sure he would never hear again. John cut this moment short as well, reaching out to clap Phil on the shoulder.

“You can walk me out, I have a few more things that you need to know about, and then I’ll be out of your hair.” He offered, and with some difficulty, Phil did as he was told, turning away from Dan and walking the portly gentlemen down to the exit into the street.

“Now I’ve come to know Dan a bit, I’ve been working with his doctors for a few months now, so I don’t think it’s necessary, but protocol and all that.” John was saying, while Phil only half listened. He probably should have been paying more attention, as it might have spared him some confusion when he looked down to see that the man had pressed a taser into his hands. “Just in case. So far none of our patients have gone rabid a second time, but it’s better safe than sorry. This way you’ve got a non-lethal solution, and you can give us a call to come get him if he starts to get bitey. And keep an eye out for any blue pills. He really doesn’t strike me as the type, but some PDS sufferers have been getting their hands on a drug we’re calling Blue Oblivion. Nasty stuff. Sends them right on back to their untreated state.”

Phil just nodded in response, and let out a bit of a yelp as John pulled him into an entirely unexpected hug. He couldn’t really decide whether this man was likeable, or just a bit too handsy.

“Anyway, good luck. I’ve left a package with the neurotryptilin and the information you’ll be needing on the table upstairs. You can find the contact number for the nearest rehabilitation center in the information packet. We’ll be sending a local volunteer around weekly to check in on how you two are doing, but really, don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.” With a wide smile, John turned and stepped out the front door, shutting it behind him and leaving Phil to stand alone on the landing.

Taking a deep breath, he headed back up the stairs.

***

_February-April, 2017_

It took quite a while before Phil managed to calm down enough to get the full story, and honestly, it seemed like something of an anticlimactic end for someone who had loomed so large in his life.

A lorry had simply lost a wheel and spun out. It had caused something of a pileup, but only one person had been seriously injured; the rest of the people involved had walked away with little more than a few bangs and scrapes.

Unfortunately, that one person had been Dan. The lorry in question had been carrying construction materials, and upon impact with another car, the cargo had come loose from its lashings. Most of the two by fours and scrap metal had just landed on the street, contributing to the massive pileup, but one large girder had split apart on contact with the pavement, and a sizeable shard of sharp metal had gone straight through the front window of the taxi in which Dan was a passenger, missing the driver in the process.

If it had gone just a foot to the left or right, everything would have been just fine. Instead it had impaled Dan through the left side of his chest, slicing through a major artery and puncturing a lung. According to the update he got from Mr. Howell when he finally brought himself to call, Dan had bled out shortly after arriving at the hospital. There was nothing that anyone could have done.

Not that this knowledge did a darn thing for Phil’s guilt.

He couldn’t get over the fact that if he had just gone to Tesco’s himself, or shut up and dealt with the fact that maybe he would just have to eat toast for breakfast the next day, none of this would have happened.

The Howells were making a point in not blaming him for what had happened at all, but that didn’t help in the slightest. If anything, it just made things worse. He _wanted_ someone to yell at him- to chew him out, tell him that he was to blame- but all he was getting was sympathy.

Their friends and colleagues were the worst. They clearly didn’t know what to say to him, but that didn’t stop the slew of texts and DMs on twitter, all expressing vaguely the same thing. That they didn’t want to bother him, but would be there for him if he ever wanted to talk, or a shoulder to cry on.

PJ and Chris had dragged him out of the flat a few days after the funeral to go shopping. They were obviously trying to help, but it had turned out to be nothing but an awkward evening of drawn out silences and forced jokes. He hadn’t heard from Chris since, and it would be months before PJ tried to text again.

In the end, it was Louise who finally managed to pull him through the worst of it. She had arrived at Phil’s doorstep without warning, bringing along an entire duffel bag of snacks, board games, and blu-rays.

His appetite really wasn’t what it once was, and he had no interest in playing Dream Date or watching an entire season of RuPaul’s Drag Race, but the fact that Louise seemed to think that the perfect way to make him feel better was the exact way a teenager would cheer up another teenager after a bad break up was enough to make him laugh for the first time in nearly a month.

It might have been a bit of a mental break to be honest, because he couldn’t stop laughing or even get himself off where he’d ended up on his back on the floor for well over twenty minutes.

She ended up staying for a week, carefully prodding him with tasty snacks and even consenting to a full marathon of Buffy. It must have done him some good, because by the time she left, he finally felt ready to do the one thing that he least wanted to do.

They had already filmed the latest episode of The Sims, but it hadn’t been fully edited yet. A large part of Phil wanted to just leave it alone, but he couldn’t help but feel that if this was the last the world was going to see of the two of them together, he owed it to everyone, himself included, to finish it.

He had been right in thinking so. The entire process was painful, and it took him nearly two weeks worth of short editing bursts to do it, but by the time the finished product was rendering on DanAndPhilGAMES, he did find himself feeling some sense of closure. The comments and tweets that rolled in over the next few days were an even bigger help, and before too long, he found the energy to record a new video, which was met with an equal outpouring of support when he posted it.

Things were still hard, but he was starting to reach some semblance of ‘okay’.

Of course, only a few short months later the entire world would find itself in the midst of an Apocalypse, and then everything would go to hell in a handbasket again.

***

_30 January, 2021_

When Phil returned to the flat, he was expecting to find Dan waiting on the couch where he had left him, but he was nowhere to be seen.

For a wild moment, he imagined that he had been dreaming the events of the last few days. They _were_ a bit too good to be true, after all. Then he heard a low laugh coming from the direction of Dan’s room, and he was flooded with relief. Hesitating for just a moment, he made his way in the direction of the noise, and pushed the door open.

Dan was standing in the middle of the room, taking in the untouched decorations and various nicknacks. He turned at the sound of the door opening, giving Phil a small grin before turning back in the direction of his piano. “Did you literally just leave this as some kind of Dan museum? It looks _exactly_ the same as it did the last I saw it.” He commented, his tone teasing but soft.

“Yeah… Guess I kind of did.” Phil murmured, scratching at the back of his head and staring straight at Dan. He still couldn’t quite believe the fact that his friend was there, standing in his room, as if the past four years had never even happened. Only that silly tan cover up and the unhealed stitches on his face served as reminders that it had, in fact, been real. “I had a thought to turn it into a guest room, but I couldn’t bring myself to put any of your things away, and only Louise even had the opportunity to sleep in here before… before everything happened. She opted for the futon.”

Dan’s expression softened, and he paused in his perusal of the room, to turn his gaze back on Phil, giving him a once over. “...You look different. Good different, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a little weird. I look exactly the same.” He paused, eyes widening slightly. “You’re _34._ Jesus fucking christ, I hadn’t even thought of it- Happy birthday!”

It hadn’t occurred to Phil how different he must have looked to Dan. His hair had grown out, and he hadn’t bothered to colour it in ages- the majority of it was still black, but it was faded, and his natural ginger-y roots were starting to show.  His current outfit was less of a specific style and more a mishmash of whatever was comfortable, made up of mix of his own more current wardrobe at the flat and old things he’d pilfered from his parents’ house. From a purely visual standpoint, he rather thought he probably looked a mess, now that he thought about it, but it was nice of Dan to say otherwise.

“Thanks, Dan.” He finally said, mostly in response to the birthday comment. He paused for a moment before deciding that there was no point in hiding what he was thinking. So what if it was cheesy? He had plenty of regrets in his life- he wasn’t going to let ‘not sharing my feelings with my best friend because they’re a bit sappy’ become another regret. “I have to admit, you being here is honestly the best birthday present I could have gotten.”

Dan grinned in response, and this time Phil didn’t even bother questioning whether what he wanted to do was sappy. He just went with his instincts and crossed the room before enveloping Dan in the kind of hug that probably would have hurt Dan if he still had to breathe, and burying his face against the slightly taller man’s shoulder.

It only took a moment for Dan to respond in kind, and he looped his arms around Phil in return, hugging him with an enthusiasm that actually _did_ sort of hurt, but not enough for Phil to put a stop to it.

Eventually, it was Dan who broke the hug apart, although he kept a hand on Phil’s shoulder, still grasping him tightly. “I have absolutely no issue with cuddling for the next ten hours if that’s what you want, but you’ve got to loosen the grip a little, Philly. I think you almost pulled out some stitches, and I _really_ don’t want to go back to the Treatment Center just to have them put back in because my rotten insides are poking out.”

Phil laughed despite the fact that this wasn’t particularly funny, and resisted the urge to completely ignore the warning and hug him again. “Sorry. It’s just hard to believe you’re… you. And you’re standing here. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Dan responded, with a lot more genuine emotion than they usually shared whilst saying relatively sappy things. “I know I’ve been gone longer from your end, but I did just go through months of forced therapy to deal with memories of literally eating people, so I would argue that it felt like a lot longer than it was.”

Now would probably have been a good time to talk about this. There was a heck of a lot of baggage between the two of them now, both personal baggage and joint baggage, and there were a _lot_ of things still left unsaid. Not to mention the logistical discussions that needed to be had, especially pertaining to when and if Dan wanted to make his continued existence known to the fans that they still had.

Phil thought about all of this, and then decided that all of it could wait.

“Crunchyroll went back online about a week ago. Let me just get my laptop and we can cuddle in your bed and have a rewatch of ‘Free!’?”

Dan grinned ear to ear, and Phil was happy to see that the heavy mousse didn’t seem to be having any effect on his dimples. “God, yes."

The real world and its ever present issues could wait. They had catching up to do, and fictional swim teams to cheer on.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long time between updates. I had a massive case of writer's block that has finally worked itself out. Have a fairly long chapter to make up for it. There's a fair amount of angst to be had here, as well as plenty of silliness and fluff. I hope it is enjoyable, dear readers. 
> 
> Also, good news on the In the Flesh front for anyone interested- http://www.denofgeek.com/us/tv/in-the-flesh/262800/in-the-flesh-return-possible Excuse me, I'll just be over here in my corner, scribbling away at crummy fic and flailing at the concept of getting more of my zombie babbies. 
> 
> As usual, I love to hear what people think so kudos and especially comments are basically my lifeblood. :)

Phil hadn’t even realized that he had fallen asleep, until he found himself waking up rather abruptly.

At first, he couldn’t quite figure out what had woken him up, or even where he was, given his sleepy disorientation. A bleary glance around reminded him that he was in Dan’s room, and that he must have just slipped off during their little marathon. His laptop was still playing, but it was on the floor, having apparently fallen off of him while he slept. He reached down to pick it up, ensuring that it hadn’t broken, and then shut it, assuming that he’d just heard the noise of it hitting the ground, and that was what had woken him up.

With the sound of the Free! episode that had been playing now cut off and his mind steadily waking up a bit more, he realized that this was not what had jarred him from his sleep. That had clearly been Dan.

His friend had obviously fallen asleep too, but he certainly wasn’t sleeping soundly. He had turned over so that his face was buried in his pillow, and he was shaking heavily. Phil couldn’t quite be sure if the shaking was the result of fear, or cold, or just his muscles crying out in protest at just how hard he was gripping the pillow underneath him in his clenched fists. His breathing, while muffled by the pillow, was fast and somewhat labored, and Phil could hear strange, somewhat pathetic little noises coming from the back of his throat.

Phil hesitated and simply watched him for several long seconds, before clearing his throat and speaking in a low voice. “Dan?”

Dan didn’t react to this at all, confirming in Phil’s mind that he was, indeed, asleep, and probably having some sort of nightmare. He was plainly in distress, anyway, and Phil had no intention of letting him suffer through it. He reached out a hand to Dan’s trembling shoulder and gave him a gentle shake, repeating his name a little louder as he did.

The effect was immediate. Dan jumped as if he’d just been scorched by something, hitting his head on his bed’s headboard and then shoving himself back so that he landed sitting on the bed, his chest continuing to rise and fall with each labored breath. He looked around in apparent confusion for a moment, before turning his wide eyed gaze on Phil.

In the darkness of the room, it took Phil a few seconds to realize there was something different about Dan’s eyes. The one on the left was its usual brown- his right eye, however…

Somehow, Phil had managed to forget that the familiar brown of Dan’s eyes was no longer natural. He had forgotten about the government issue contact lenses, meant to be worn along with the cover up mousse to keep up some semblance of looking ‘normal’. Dan had obviously lost one, and now that his actual eye was revealed, Phil couldn’t help but stare. That blank whiteness, with only a slightly misshapen pinprick of a pupil in the center, was something he had seen in the faces of dozens of rabid undead over the years. It was a little bit unsettling to tell the truth, and he found his own breath catching in his throat.

It only took a moment before Dan figured out what he was staring at, and he clapped a hand over his eye with a mumbled “Shit” before feeling around on the bedspread for his lost contact. Phil just watched him for a short while, then shook his head and let out a shaky breath.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I just- forgot. It’s fine, Dan. It’s just a missing contact lens.” He murmured, trying to sound comforting as he joined in the search, feeling for the familiar plastic-y feel of a lost and dried out contact. He certainly understood the struggle, there, even if he hadn’t bothered wearing his own lenses in ages.

He had only searched for a few seconds when Dan took hold of his wrist, stopping him. “I don’t- I don’t need help, Phil. I’ll find it, and they gave me a few spares anyway if I can’t.” Dan’s voice sounded very carefully measured, although it did crack a little at the start, a dead giveaway that he was just trying not to seem upset. He let go of Phil’s wrist and went back to his search, avoiding his gaze.

“I don’t mind. I want to help.” Phil replied sincerely. Dan still didn’t look at him, merely shaking his head in response, and Phil gave a sigh before continuing. “Dan. Calm down. We can find it later. You’re in a right state right now, you were obviously having a nightmare.” He reached out for Dan’s shoulder again, this time to give it a comforting squeeze, but he found himself shaken roughly away.

“It wasn’t a nightmare, and I don’t want to talk about it.” Dan said, his voice cold. He had stopped his frantic searching of the covers, but he definitely wasn’t calm, and he was still looking anywhere but at Phil. “I’m fine. Now, could you please go to your own room?”

Phil wanted to say no. After everything that happened, he truthfully didn’t want to let Dan out of his sight, for a few days at least. He couldn’t exactly refuse, though. Dan had a right to privacy if he felt he needed it. Didn’t mean Phil was going to go easily though. “I can stay. We can talk about it. Whatever the problem is, we can get it sorted.”

Dan finally did look at him, and while the eye was still a little jarring, Phil found that he was considerably less bothered by it this time, now that it was no longer a surprise.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Dan repeated, speaking slowly and enunciating each word carefully, as if he was talking to a toddler. “We can’t get it sorted. I just don’t want you in here right now.” His tone was less calm and collected now, and more verging on angry, which stung a bit. “ _Please_. Go away.”

This time, Phil didn’t argue. He continued to stare at Dan for another few seconds, frowning slightly, then did as he was told, getting to his feet and grabbing his laptop off of the floor before making his way out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

He did indeed make his way to his own bedroom, and he got into his own bed without bothering to change into pajamas. He didn’t sleep, though. He just stared up at the ceiling, cursing himself for not considering the idea that this might actually be hard.

***

Dan watched Phil leave, his anger starting to dissipate from the moment his friend’s back was to him. By the time the door was shut again, he just felt terrible. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Phil’s feelings, and part of him really did want him there. Most of him, though, just wanted to wallow on his own for a while.

He flopped down onto his bed again, not bothering to get under the duvet this time. There was no way he was sleeping again now. Phil’s comforting presence was honestly the only thing that had allowed him to fall asleep so easily in the first place, but he couldn’t handle having him around anymore. His face was too bloody earnest. He only wanted to help, but Dan didn’t deserve help, and there wasn’t really anything anyone could _do_ to help.

He couldn’t get the images of the flashback he’d had out of his head. They were getting clearer and clearer, the longer he continued to take the medication, and this was the worst one yet. It had been like he was there again, stumbling without a conscious thought down the alleyway where he had found the girl.

He had a feeling that her face was going to be permanently burned into his mind. She had shot the rest of his ‘hunting partners’ without a second thought, and then she had turned the pistol she held on him. By all rights, he should have been one of the many undead that never had the chance to be treated. That bullet should have blown through his skull, and he should have been left there in the alley with the others that he had been stumbling around with since they had risen from their graves.

Only, she hadn’t shot him. She’d lowered the gun and stared at him, eyes wide, and she’d brought one hand up to cover her mouth, taking a step back and away from him.

He hadn’t understood what was happening at the time, of course. He hadn’t understood _anything_ beyond the vague concept that this girl was food, and he wanted that food.

He certainly understood it now. He knew exactly what that look on her face had been. Recognition.

This girl couldn’t have been more than sixteen. Probably even younger, and already a hardened survivor. Her only mistake had been a single moment of weakness at the thought of putting down the walking corpse of someone she had obviously spent many an hour watching on YouTube once upon a time.

He’d thanked her by cracking her skull open on the brick wall of the alleyway.

Phil may have had plenty of sympathy for him, but he felt that he deserved precisely none of it.

***

Phil rolled out of bed at a little while past ten the next morning. It had taken him a while to get to sleep, and he had no idea how many hours he had managed to get, but he felt rested enough. He ran a hand through his hair, which was feeling decidedly greasy, and made a face as he got to his feet. He needed to put on clean clothes, but first of all, he desperately needed a shower.

Force of habit meant that he didn’t even think about needing to knock as he made his way to the bathroom and simply opened the door to find it already occupied.

Dan jumped at the sudden interruption and promptly dropped the contact that he had been trying to shove into his eye.

“Fuck.” He swore loudly, making a grab for it and successfully getting the little lens before it managed to go down the drain.

“Sorry. I haven’t really needed to knock lately.” Phil excused quickly, backing up as he spoke and moving to shut the door again. Dan grabbed the door before it could close and turned to look at him with a small smile. It would seem whatever had made him act so coldly toward Phil the night before had been forgiven, or at least willfully forgotten.

“No, it’s fine. If you need to use it, you should go ahead. I’m… probably going to be a while with this.” He mumbled in a sheepish tone, holding up the contact lens as he spoke.

“Truth be told, I’m amazed you’re able to get them in your eyes at all. I remember the time I tried to make you put on contacts.” Phil joked after a moment, returning Dan’s smile, and earning a soft laugh.

“You shouldn’t be too amazed.” He admitted, still sounding a bit sheepish. “That’s why I don’t really take them out. It’s not like it irritates my eyes to just leave them, and the last time I had to put them in it took me over an hour.”

Phil snorted at this confession, and opened the door fully again before entering and staring at Dan with mild amusement. “Alright then, let’s see you try. Go on.”

Dan stared at him. “Really? What are you going to do, judge my attempt? Are you going to give me a score out of ten?” He questioned, even as he complied and leaned in close to the mirror, fumbling with his eyelids with one hand while poking the lens on his finger at his exposed eye with his other. It promptly folded up and fell off of his finger, landing on the counter. “Fucking- see? This is impossible.”

Phil couldn’t help but laugh, and only laughed harder when Dan cast him a scathing look. “I’m sorry, it’s just… of course it isn’t working! You haven’t got your eye open nearly enough, it’s getting all caught up on your eyelashes. Look, give it here.” He took the lens off the counter and carefully cleaned it off with a little saline solution, then turned his attention back to Dan. “Just hold still and don’t blink, alright?” Reaching out his free hand, he pushed Dan’s eyelids further apart, doing his best to ignore the way that eye still bothered him just slightly, and gently pushed the lens into place before letting go. This went considerably better than the last time he’d attempted to help Dan put in a contact, given that this time Dan actually complied with the whole ‘not blinking’ thing.

He watched as Dan rubbed at his eye, blinking a few times to get the lens into place, and then looked at himself in the mirror before nodding slightly.

“Thanks, Phil. So I assume I can just come to you every time it falls out, right?” He asked with a cheeky grin, and Phil laughed again.

“You should probably learn to do it yourself eventually, don’t you think?” He questioned in a playful tone. “Besides, even if it doesn’t really irritate your eyes, it can’t be good to leave them in constantly. You should at least switch out the lenses for new ones every so often. And you don’t have to wear them around the flat, you know. I don’t mind.”

At this, Dan’s grin faltered, and he flicked his gaze back to the mirror again, staring at himself in silence long enough that Phil was about to ask what was wrong before he spoke up again, so quietly that Phil had to strain a bit to hear. “Well, I do mind. I don’t like to look at myself without them.”

Phil found himself at a loss for words at this confession. It was understandable, and honestly, he was having a hard time finding a good argument against this, even if he didn’t think it was a particularly healthy way to think. Finally, he settled on something he thought might be at least be a bit comforting. “I’m not going to try to force the issue if you’re more comfortable wearing them, but… Maybe you just need to get used to the way you look without them. They’re your eyes now, so I’d argue that makes them pretty fantastic, and they still work better than mine.”

Dan looked as though he wanted to argue, but then the last bit of Phil’s short speech got a little laugh out of him. “True. At least I’m not a mole without my glasses.” He replied, reaching out and plucking said glasses off of Phil’s face before he could stop him.

“Hey!” Phil yelped, making a grab for them even as Dan plonked them onto his own face and stared into the mirror.

“Oh yeah, my eyes are still leagues ahead of yours.” Dan decided as he stared blearily at his own reflection, while Phil just squinted at him and pouted. “Did your prescription get even stronger?”

“No. You’ve just forgotten how bad my eyes have always been.” Phil argued, reaching out and snatching his glasses back to return them to their rightful place on his own face. He normally would have tolerated a bit of glasses theft more in the past, but living in a world where your life sometimes depended on your eyesight, he was a bit more paranoid about losing them. Dan could obviously tell that he wasn’t amused, and his grin faded slightly.

“Sorry. I was only teasing you.”

“It’s not that, it’s just… I lost them once on a supply run, and suffice to say it wasn’t a fun experience.” He explained with a sigh, not wanting to go into more detail than that for fear of dredging up unpleasant memories for the both of them. “Um… Breakfast? I actually have the fixings for pancakes.”

Dan simply stared at him as he spoke, a look of bald concern on his face, until the question jarred him into speaking. “I can’t eat, Phil. I would absolutely eat pancakes if I could, but believe me, neither of us wants to see what’ll happen if I try it.” He put on a joking tone at this, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “I will, however, gladly help you make some. Do you realize how long it’s been since I’ve done something as boring and domestic as  _cooking_?”

Phil actually hadn’t realized that Dan wasn’t able to eat at all, and he made a mental note to read through the information packet that he had been given more thoroughly. Not that it looked like it contained much information anyway. It was a bit too small to cover much more than the very basics.

“Okay, then. We’ll make pancakes, and I’ll eat them. More for me that way.” He granted, turning away from the bathroom and heading toward the kitchen with Dan following along behind him. He recalled that he still probably looked like crap and _definitely_ still needed a shower, but pancakes took priority there.

***

It had been very easy to get back into the routine of cooking with Dan, who seemed to have forgotten that they were actually trying to make breakfast seriously and was treating the whole thing more like one of their old baking videos. Phil certainly didn’t usually end up with quite so much flour all over himself when he cooked by himself, and the little food fight that broke out as they were making the mix was definitely to blame for that. If he hadn’t already needed a change of clothes before starting breakfast, he definitely needed one now. His jeans were really more white than black at this point.

He had finally gotten the batter finished, and was just about to attempt a flip when he felt a hand on his bum. He was quick to spin around, nearly smashing the skillet into a laughing Dan in the process. “What are you _doing_ , you spork?” He questioned, sounding more scandalized than he actually was.

“I missed a few spots.” Dan explained, as if that was obvious, and held up a hand that still showed a light coating of flour. Phil scowled and craned his head to look down at his rear. The back of his jeans had mostly escaped the onslaught of flour. Except, of course, for the clear white handprint that now covered his back pocket. He looked up at Dan, who was still laughing as if he’d just pulled the funniest damn prank the world had ever seen, and reached up to rub one of his own rather floury hands into Dan’s short fringe, mussing up his curls.

“Hey, that is in _no_ way equal retaliation!” Dan retorted, attempting to shake the flour out with his own fingers and only succeeding in getting more into his hair.

“You give me a powdery butt, you become George Washington. So was decreed by the ancient laws of the kitchen.” Phil replied somberly, turning his attention back to successfully flipping and continuing to cook his pancake. He smirked a bit to himself as Dan responded by muttering a few choice swear words under his breath.

Phil’s phone went off just as he was putting the last pancake onto his plate, and he picked it up from where he’d left it sitting on the kitchen counter as he moved to set the plate on the table and sat down.

“Dammit. I cancelled plans I’d made with Martyn for my birthday but I forgot to cancel plans with Louise. She was supposed to come visit in a few days. I’ll have to call her.” He said with a sigh as he read the text that he had received. Dan, who had already started cleaning up the mess they had made, glanced over upon hearing what Phil had said.

“Well… You don’t have to cancel. It’s not as though I wouldn’t _want_ to see Louise.” He pointed out, and Phil frowned a bit, because this was a conversation that they hadn’t had yet.

“No, I know. I just, haven’t told anyone about you yet. I wasn’t sure how you wanted to go about letting people know that you’re… y’know, back. Or how many people you wanted in on the knowledge, at least while you’re still getting settled.”

Dan set the mixing bowl he had been rinsing down in the sink and shut off the tap, turning to look at Phil head on and leaning up against the counter. “That’s a point. I suppose I’m not keen on the _world_ knowing yet, but Louise can know. I’d like to see her. And you can certainly tell your fucking _family_ , Phil. What did you even tell Martyn? Did you pretend you were ill? Were you planning on just lying indefinitely every time they wanted to come round to yours?”

Phil had the decency to look a bit embarrassed as Dan managed to guess exactly how he had been planning on handling the issue of his family. “I put on my ‘I’ve got a cold’ voice. I don’t think he believed me.”

Dan let out a barking laugh. “Of course he didn’t, you plonker. He’s your fucking brother, he’s probably the one that _taught_ you how to fake a cold. Tell him the truth before he starts believing you’re an arsehole who’d rather sit alone in his flat than spend his birthday with his family.”

Phil knew that this was completely solid advice, and he switched over to his text exchange with Martyn.

> _-I’m not actually ill. It’s just that something came up, and I wasn’t sure if I could tell you about it yet._

He typed out his confession and sent it, only to receive a response within the minute.

> _-Of course you aren’t actually ill, I’m not stupid, you absolute plonker. Are you going to tell me what’s really going on?_

Phil frowned, furrowing his brow slightly as he read this. “Why is everyone calling me a plonker today?”

“Because it’s an incredibly valid term for you.” Dan replied dryly, watching him with an expression that was almost nervous, but not quite. “Did you tell him yet?”

“No, I’m getting round to it. Just give me a second.” Phil replied defensively as he typed out his next response.

> _-This is big, alright? Very big. Blue whale big. Do you know how long a blue whale is? I can google a life size image if you like, it takes absolutely ages to scroll through the whole thing._

The response came almost immediately, and was short and to the point.

> _-Philip Michael Lester, stop avoiding the issue._

Phil stared at his phone for several seconds, trying to decide how best to explain things, then decided that a picture was worth a thousand words. Getting to his feet, he headed over to Dan and leaned against the counter beside him, ignoring the questioning look he was receiving as he opened up his phone’s camera to selfie mode.

“Really, Phil? That’s how you’re going to do this?” Dan asked, sounding a little annoyed, but he posed for the picture willingly enough, a longsuffering look on his face. Phil pulled his usual slightly frightened looking expression, falling back into the old habit easily, and pointed a finger at Dan before snapping the photo and texting it to his brother before he could chicken out.

He wasn’t sure why exactly he was so nervous about this. It wasn’t as though he legitimately thought that Martyn would be upset or prejudiced or anything like that, he just didn’t really know how he _would_ react either, and that was enough to put him on edge. Dan was in a similar boat by the looks of it. He made no attempt to hide the fact that he was staring at the phone over Phil’s shoulder.

It felt like ages before the reply finally came, although in reality it was only about a minute.

> _-Okay. Snub completely forgiven. Go spend time with your undead other half, and give him my love. But tell mum too. She’ll absolutely kill you if she finds out from someone else._

Phil laughed as he read the text, and found himself instantly flooded with relief. He grinned up at Dan, who shook his head a little and pushed him back toward the table with a half smile. “Eat your bloody pancakes before they get cold. If I can’t eat, I have to live vicariously through you, and you’re going to ruin a delicious breakfast.”

The pancakes were, in fact, delicious, and Phil savoured every single bite, feeling considerably more cheerful as the weight he hadn’t even noticed was there was slightly lifted.

***

Louise was easier to deal with, considering Dan actually wanted to see his good friend, and they both decided that it would be infinitely more fun for her to simply arrive and find out then. The only thing Phil did to change the plans was mention that he had something big to tell her in person, and that it might be better if she didn’t bring Darcy along after all. The little girl was growing quickly, but she was still young, and they agreed that it would probably be a shock that would be better explained later by her mother.

Phil texted his mother later that evening, once he’d cleaned himself up and he and Dan had spent a lazy day merely enjoying one another’s company, watching some anime, and playing a ludicrous amount of Mario Kart.

He indicated that he had huge news, and that he wanted to show her rather than tell her. With Dan’s permission, he accepted the facetime request when it came shortly thereafter.

They both regretted this plan when she clapped a hand over her mouth upon seeing just who was once again sharing the couch with her son, and even more so when she started very obviously crying.

Once she managed to regain some composure, she was very reassuring in that she was just overwhelmingly happy, and Phil found himself flushing slightly as she proceeded to direct her attention specifically at Dan, rambling on about how lost Phil had been without him, and that it didn’t matter in the slightest to her that he was ‘just a bit undead’.

It took over an hour to end the call, especially once Phil’s father had joined in, and when they finally hung up, Phil was pretty much emotionally exhausted. Dan looked to be in much the same place mentally, and they simply sat there in silence for a time, before the alarm that Phil had set went off.

“Great.” He mumbled with a sigh, getting up and heading to the bathroom, where he had stowed the supply of Dan’s medication. He opened the box and pulled out the injector a bit nervously, looking up at Dan, who was eyeing him just as nervously. Phil couldn’t say he blamed him. He didn’t fully trust himself to do this, and he wasn’t the one about to get something shot into his spine. “Okay. This looked easy enough, right? Just… turn around and I’ll give you a poke.”

Dan’s eyebrows shot up, but he did as he was told, shifting around and pulling down his shirt at the back to expose the hole at the base of his neck. “You really need to start thinking about your phrasing before you speak, Phil.”

“Sorry, I’m just a little nervous about this.” Phil admitted, putting a steadying hand on Dan’s shoulder. His friend shifted a bit uncomfortably as one of his fingers brushed the side of his neck, and he quickly adjusted his grip before carefully pushing the nozzle of the injector into the hole. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“That really isn’t very reassur-” Dan began, but cut off himself off with a hiss as Phil went ahead and pulled the trigger. A repeat performance of his shuddering display after his dose the day before followed, and this time Phil ignored the advice of the attendant, rubbing what he hoped was a comforting hand on Dan’s back as he went through what he could only imagine was a deeply unpleasant series of flashbacks. Eventually, Dan's breathing quieted again, and he looked up at Phil with a somewhat annoyed expression. “Well, you didn’t completely fuck it up, but a little warning might be nice next time.”

“I just thought it might be best to handle it like peeling off a plaster.” Phil replied with a shrug. “You know, just get it over with quickly… Are you alright? Kind of looks like it hurts.”

“It doesn’t.” Dan said matter-of-factly. “Nothing does. I can’t feel pain. I can’t feel anything, really. I mean, I can feel pressure, and texture, that sort of thing, but not pain. Or cold, or heat. I know you’ve got a hand on my back, but I couldn’t tell you if it’s warm or cool. It’s not the physical aspect, it’s just… the after effects are unpleasant.”

That much was obvious, but Phil didn’t comment. He wasn’t about to push Dan into explaining more about it, not after the way he’d been after he’d woken in the night. Instead, he just packed away the medication again in silence, then sat down on the sofa again before resuming the episode of a random anime that they had been watching earlier.  

About halfway through the episode, he was startled by a cold hand reaching out to take his, lacing their fingers together. He turned to look at Dan and opened his mouth to ask what he was playing at, but the look on Dan’s face shut him up before he even began. There was a deep, obvious melancholy there, as Dan stared down at their clasped hands. It suddenly occurred to Phil just how isolating it must have been to not be able to really _feel_ anything. Remembering what Dan had said about pressure, he gave the hand in his a hard squeeze, and Dan finally looked up to meet his eyes, the previous melancholy replaced by a grateful expression. Phil just smiled and turned his attention back to the television, although he didn’t pull his hand away, and he made a point to rub his thumb across the back of Dan’s hand.

Phil’s hand eventually started to go a little bit numb, and he knew that pins and needles would soon follow, but he didn’t pull away or comment. It was a small price to pay if he could help Dan feel more connected to the world in some small way.

Nor did he comment later, when they ended the night together in Phil’s bed, with Dan pretty much spooning him, one hand pressed against his chest.

“I like feeling your heartbeat.” He explained in a sleepy sounding mumble, slightly muffled by the fact that his face was pressed against Phil’s shoulder blade. “It’s almost like having my own again.”

Phil wondered vaguely if Dan was half asleep already, and that was why he was being so candid as well as clingy. He slowly raised his own hand up to loosely grasp the hand over his heart. Dan mumbled something that was completely indecipherable, and pulled him closer so that Phil’s back was flush against Dan’s chest, shifting up so that his face was now pressed into the back of Phil’s neck.

If Dan noticed the way Phil’s heart sped up just a touch at this point, well, he didn’t comment either.


End file.
